Head Over Heels by Susan Andersen

didn’t know how to contact me in Scotland, so I didn’t learnabout Crystal’s death until I got back to Seattle late Sunday night. The second I did, I cleared my calendar so I could be here with Lizzy until I can get the Tonk and the house sold and clear up Crystal’s estate.”
    The kids came pounding back down the stairs. “Aunt Ronnie,” Lizzy called in her soft little voice, “can we have some cookies?”
    Veronica walked into the kitchen to meet them. “Sure. You all know where the cookie jar is. Milk’s in the fridge.” She tousled Riley’s hair as he headed for the table with the now-lidless cookie jar tucked under his arm, stuffing a cookie into his mouth as he went. “Use a glass, bud. We’re a family of girls here—we don’t like to see washback in our milk.”
    He grinned at her, showing a mouthful of half-masticated cookie, then plunked down the jar and reached for the cup Lizzy brought over. “Okeydoke. Is it okay if I go see my friend Brad after our snack? He just lives on the other side of the Sooper Save.”
    â€œWhy don’t you call him up and see if he can come here to play, instead?” Veronica picked a cookie out of the jar and took a nibble. “Then we’ll find out what your mom has to say about future visits, okay?”
    Riley heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Okay.”
    Coop grabbed a cookie for himself, then excused himself from the little group and headed out. But as he climbed the shallow concrete steps of the Andrew Carnegie–built library a short while later, he couldn’t seem to get Veronica’s interaction with the kids out of his head.
    It was just his bad luck that he was a sucker for a woman with a maternal streak. His own mother hadn’t possessed one, so women who were good withkids just did something to him. His heart beat a little too fast and his gut churned uneasily as he pulled open one of the library’s big double doors.
    You happy now, bud? It’s been tough enough keeping your hands off her when you thought she was a selfish bitch and a lousy surrogate parent.
    What the hell are you gonna do now?
    Â 
    Moments after Coop disappeared into the library, a man drove past the Tonk. As always when he passed by, he felt compelled to slow down and give the juke joint a quick appraisal. Not that the deed that kept him cruising by had been done anywhere near here, but this was where everything had started that evening, and therefore held a compelling attraction for him. When the car behind him honked impatiently, he resumed a normal speed. And smiled in satisfaction.
    For he’d committed the perfect crime, hadn’t he? He’d killed Crystal Davis and no one was the wiser, due to his quick thinking when he’d cleverly pinned it on Eddie Chapman. Hey, hey, hey, Boo Boo .
    He laughed aloud, because the old cartoon phrase was his own private mantra. He’d always been smarter than the average bear.
    Not that he’d actually planned to kill Crystal. But what the hell—plans change. It was her own damn fault she was dead, anyhow. He’d given her every opportunity to cease and desist, but had she listened? Oh, no. She’d just had to keep pushing him.
    Well, no Baker Street bimbo threatened to ruin him—he didn’t care if she could suck the chrome off a bumper hitch. He’d spent too many years and laboredtoo long building his reputation in this town to allow some avaricious slut with a vendetta get away with pulling that down around his ears.
    She’d gotten just what she’d deserved. And hell, it wasn’t as if he’d enjoyed it or anything. He did appreciate his own adroit thinking, though, and he knew if he could tell anyone, they, too, would have to admit he’d acted brilliantly when he’d arranged the suspicion to fall on Chapman.
    So yes, indeed, Boo Boo.
    He was definitely smarter than your average-type bear.

7
    C